A throe upon the features
A hurry in the breath,
An ecstasy of parting
Denominated “Death,” —
An anguish at the mention,
Which, when to patience grown,
I ‘ve known permission given
To rejoin its own.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.
A throe upon the features
A hurry in the breath,
An ecstasy of parting
Denominated “Death,” —
An anguish at the mention,
Which, when to patience grown,
I ‘ve known permission given
To rejoin its own.